Gluck
was primarily a composer of operas, and he made his name especially through "reforming" the elaborate decorativeness of the Baroque opera of his
day (many of which he himself had composed), into plots drawn from classical
myth with a grandly simple musical style that, at its best, could allow the
word and melody to project the dramatic emotions to listeners with a great
feeling of nobility. The first of these "reform" operas was Orfeo ed
Euridice (Orpheus and Eurydice), which he produced in 1762. Just a year
before that he had composed a ballet with a coherent plot, which made it, too,
a kind of reform piece. In both the ballet and the later opera, the plot was
worked out by the Viennese court poet Cazabigi. The ballet was staged by the
choreographer Angiolini. The three of them produced a narrative ballet (that
is, one that tells a story in dance) on the story of Don Juan, which had first
been told in a Spanish play a century earlier; and only two decades later it
was to be turned into one of the greatest operas of all time, Mozart's Don Giovanni. Gluck's ballet was in some sense a
revolutionary work, just like his later "reform" operas, because of
the way in which the music supported the ongoing plot, thus giving the work an
unusual new degree of artistic unity. As with most versions of the story
(including Mozart's), Don Juan is a reprobate who refuses to repent his sins; in
the end, he is vigorously dragged down to hell.

Johannes
Chrysostomus Wolfgang Gottlieb Mozart, who began calling himself Wolfgang Amadeo
about 1770 and Wolfgang Amadè in 1777 (but never Wolfgang Amadeus), was born in
Salzburg, Austria, on January 27, 1756, and died in Vienna on December 5, 1791.
Most probably he wrote this work in Salzburg in the summer of 1779; we have no
information about its early performance history. In addition to the violin and
viola solos, the score calls for two oboes and two horns, plus the orchestral
strings, with two sections of violas as well as violins. Duration is about 30
minutes. In addition to his concertos for
solo winds, for solo violin, and for solo piano, Mozart also composed a number
of works in the then‑popular medium known as the Sinfonia concertante,
essentially a concerto with multiple soloists. Here particularly his powers of
melodic invention were essential, for he not only had to distinguish between
soloist and orchestra, but also between the two (or more) soloists.
Far
and away the greatest of the works in this category is the one that also stands
as his finest concerto for stringed instruments, the E‑flat sinfonia
concertante for violin and viola. It was the product of Mozart's maturity, and
the darker sonority of the viola seems to have inspired him to new expression.
His predilection for the viola reveals itself in two ways here. First, he makes
the orchestral viola sound more prominent by dividing the section into two
parts, giving a mellow richness to the orchestral sonority. Then he helps the
solo viola stand out in the texture (where the violin's brighter sonority might
threaten to engulf it) by playing a little trick of tuning. The work is
composed in the key of E‑flat; stringed instruments are tuned to the notes that
are prominent in the sharp keys (G, D, A, etc). But Mozart writes the viola
part in D, with a note telling the solo player to tune a half‑step higher than
the rest of the orchestra, so that playing as if in the key of D will produce
the sounds of E‑flat. This tuning allows the solo viola to get more resonance
out of the instrument compared to the solo violin or the orchestral strings,
all of which are playing in E‑flat with normal tuning. At the same time, the
extra half‑step by which the pitch is
raised makes the sound of the viola slightly more penetrating.
This
is only one element of Mozart's aural imagination to appear in the piece. From
beginning to end the work is filled with wonderful details of scoring and
texture. Unlike a piano concerto, where the soloist's arrival brings a sound
entirely new to the piece, the two string soloists here emerge out of the
texture, only gradually to develop their individuality. But individuals
they become, singing to themselves, or with the tiny complement of winds (oboes
and horns), or contrasting with the larger body of strings. During the slow
movement, the two soloists embark on elaborate embellishments recalling the
fioritura of great operatic scenes, filled with passion and pathos. The finale
returns to light‑hearted high spirits with the soloists leading the way in
virtuosity (showing the other strings, for example, how to turn the 2/4 meter
into a figure filled with triplets) to the satisfying conclusion.

Igor Stravinsky (1882-1971) The Firebird Suite (1919 version)
Igor
Stravinsky was born at Oranienbaum, Russia, on June 17, 1882, and died in New
York on April 6, 1971. He began composition of The Firebird in early November 1909 at a "dacha" of
the Rimsky‑Korsakov family near St. Petersburg. He completed the score in the
city, finishing the actual composition in March and the full score a month
later; following some further retouching, the final score bears the date May
18, 1910. Commissioned by Diaghilev as a ballet in two scenes, the work was
first performed by the Ballets Russes at the Paris Opéra on June 25, 1910.
Stravinsky made suites from the ballet on three separate occasions, the first
in 1911 (employing virtually the original huge orchestration), the second in
1919 (for a much smaller orchestra), and the third in 1945 (using the same
orchestra as the second but containing more music). The instrumentation for the
1919 version includes two flutes (second doubling piccolo), two oboes (second
doubling English horn), two clarinets, two bassoons, four horns, two trumpets,
three trombones and tuba, timpani, xylophone, tambourine, triangle, cymbals,
bass drum, harp, piano (with celesta optional), and strings. Duration is about
23 minutes.
The notorious inability of Anatol
Liadov to finish his scores in time gave Stravinsky his first big break. In
1909, Sergei Diaghilev needed to find a fast-working composer for a new ballet
based on the old Russian legend of the Firebird. Having been impressed by
Stravinsky's Fireworks, which he had heard a few months earlier,
Diaghilev went to Stravinsky to discuss a possible commission for The
Firebird. Though deeply engrossed in his opera The Nightingale,
Stravinsky recognized that a commission from Diaghilev with a production in
Paris was an opportunity he could not turn down. In fact, he was so
enthusiastic that he began sketching the music before the formal commission
finally reached him. He composed the large score between November 1909 and
March 1910; the final details of the full score were finished by May 18.
The
premiere of the lavishly colorful score marked a signal triumph for the Ballets
Russes and put the name of Stravinsky on the map. Diaghilev quickly signed him
up for more ballets, and in short order he turned out Petrushka and The
Rite of Spring, with which he brought on a musical revolution. The original
score of Firebird called for an
enormous orchestra. Following World War I, in 1919, Stravinsky made a version
of his suite from the ballet for a standard-sized symphony orchestra, in order
to encourage more performances.
The
scenario of The Firebird involves the interaction of human characters
with two supernatural figures, the magic Firebird (a sort of good fairy), and
the evil sorcerer Kashchei, a green‑taloned ogre who cannot be killed except by
destroying his soul, which is preserved in a casket in the form of an egg.
Kashchei
has an enchanted garden where he keeps 13 captured princesses, who are
allowed out only at night. The young prince Ivan Tsarevich accidentally
discovers the garden while pursuing the fabulous firebird. He captures the bird
near a tree of magical golden apples. The firebird begs, in dance, to be set free,
and the prince finally agrees, but takes one magic feather as a token. The
enchanted princesses appear tentatively and shake the apple tree, then use the
fallen apples for a game of catch. Ivan Tsarevich interrupts their game, for he
has fallen in love with one of them. They dance a stately slow dance. In
pursuit of the princesses as they leave, Ivan Tsarevitch enters the palace,
where he is captured by the monsters that serve as Kashchei's guards.
Kashchei
arrives and threatens to turn the prince into stone, but Ivan Tsarevich waves
the feather, summoning the Firebird to his aid. The magic bird sets Kashchei's
followers to treading an "infernal dance" of energetic syncopation.
This gives the prince the opportunity to find and destroy the egg that contains
the ogre's soul. This act released from their spell many knights that had
previously been turned to stone. They come back to life (to music with a
sweetly descending phrase of folklike character). Knights and princesses all
take part in a dance of general happiness (a more energetic version of the same
phrase). The Firebird has disappeared, but her music, now rendered more "human" in triadic harmony, sounds in the orchestra as the curtain
falls.
Stravinsky
distinguished musically between the human and the supernatural elements of the
story by using diatonic, often folk‑like, melodies for the human characters and
chromatic ideas for the supernatural figures by chromatic ideas (slithery
melodies for Kashchei and his realm, shimmering arabesques for the Firebird).
The
suite contains the ballet's introduction, with its mood of magical awe. The
double basses present a melodic figure (two semitones and a major third) that
lies behind all the music of the Firebird. Following a culminating shower of
brilliant harmonics on the violins (played with a new technique discovered by
Stravinsky for this passage), a muted horn call signals the rise of the curtain
on a nocturnal scene in the "Enchanted Garden of Kashchei," which
continues the mysterious music of the opening (a chromatic bassoon phrase
foreshadows the sorcerer). But when Ivan Tsarevich captures the Firebird, the
magical creature appeals to be freed in an extended solo dance; Ivan takes one
of its magic feathers before allowing it to depart.
The
next episode is the khorovod (a stately slow round dance) of the
enchanted princesses, to one of the favorite passages of the score, a melody
first introduced by the solo oboe (this is an actual folk song).
The
suite then jumps to the moment in which Kashchei begins to turn Ivan into
stone, making a series of magic gestures: one -- two -- ... But before he can make
the third and final gesture, Ivan Tsarevich remembers the Firebird's feather;
he waves it, summoning the Firebird to his aid. Kashchei's followers are
enchanted by the magic bird, who sets them dancing to an "infernal
dance" of wild syncopation and striking energy. Here is where the original
1911 suite ended, but in 1912 Stravinsky published the Lullaby separately, and
it became a popular part of all later suites from the ballet, followed by the
original finale with its impressive scene of the petrified warriors returning
to life.
There
are things in the The Firebird that already foreshadow the revolutionary
composer to come: the inventive ear for new and striking sounds, the love of
rhythmic irregularities (though there is much less of it here than in Le
Sacre!), and the predilection for using ostinatos to build up passages of
great excitement. In listening to this familiar score, we may be able to sense
afresh the excitement of being on the verge of a revolution.

John Williams (b. 1932)Suite from The Empire Strikes Back, arr. John Whitney

Many 20th century composers have written significant music for films, including
Prokofiev, Shostakovich, Milhaud, Honegger, Walton, Vaughan Williams, Aaron
Copland, and Virgil Thomson. A number of composers became so thoroughly
involved with the form that they are primarily identified as film composers,
though many of them -- Erich Wolfgang Korngold, Miklos Rozsa, Franz Waxman,
Bernard Herrmann, and John Williams, for example -- have also written many concert
works or other non‑film scores.
The
composer of a film score must add to his training in music theory, composition,
and orchestration a sense of dramatic timing and color, an awareness of many
musical styles, and an ability to choose the most appropriate and expressive
treatment for a given situation, whether it be light romantic comedy (Gidget
Goes to Rome), disaster epic (The Towering Inferno), a taut
adventure (Jaws), science fiction (especially Star Wars), historical
drama (Schindler's List), or magical
fantasy (the Harry Potter films), to
consider types represented among John Williams' scores over the last 40
years.
Though
he has long since become a Californian who has adopted the calm, easy-going
surface that easterners associate with people from the Golden State, John
Williams was born a New Yorker. He moved to Los Angeles with his family in
1948, where he attended UCLA and studied composition privately with Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco.
He had already showed talent as a pianist and, after Air Force service, he
returned to New York to study piano at the Juilliard School with Rosina
Lhevinne. He worked as a jazz pianist and also, after returning to Los Angeles,
as a pianist and orchestrator in the film studios. But more and more he turned
to composing, having already worked (as assistant and orchestrator) with some
of the giants of film composition. Most of his early experience was in
television, but eventually he concentrated on the feature films for which he
produced some of the most famous and beloved music of our time. Star Wars appeared in
1977, at a time when many films had given up on full-scale original scores
because the studios discovered that a simple selection of pop songs strung
together on the sound track would cost less, and could be sold separately from
the film as a "soundtrack" recording. It came as a shock -- an exciting and
delightful shock -- to many young filmgoers to hear the symphonically-conceived
score for full orchestra that John Williams created for the space epic, paying
homage to his heroes in the field, Herrmann and Korngold. The Empire
Strikes Back was
the second element of the original Star
Wars trilogy. It is essential to any "middle" number in a
dramatic trilogy to develop the plot, also moving toward an ultimate moment of
crisis when it seems all may be lost -- so that ticket-buyers will be sure to buy
tickets for the final episode to find out what happens. The score of The Empire Strikes Back is dominated by
the brutal Imperial March, which makes us wonder whether anything can defeat
the imperial power -- especially after Luke Skywalker learns that his
arch-enemy, Darth Vader, is his own father and that the man by whose side he
has fought so valiantly, Han Solo, has been captured and turned into a frozen
state. How can the "good guys" possibly win?

Robert Lopez (b.1975) and Kristen Anderson-LopezSelections
from Frozen, arr. by Krogstad
In the animated Walt Disney film Frozen, based on Hans Christian Andersen's
tale The Snow Queen, the songs
created by husband-and-wife team Robert Lopez and Kristen Anderson Lopez almost
instantly soared to the wide popularity of many songs written for Disney
classics decades ago.